


[2]5 Times Peter Called Tony

by ChickenGoesMoo



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, M/M, Other, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 08:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenGoesMoo/pseuds/ChickenGoesMoo
Summary: *Endgame spoilers and eventual Far From Home Spoliers!*+The One Time Deadpool AnsweredAfter the death of yet another important figure in Peter’s life, he is left with nothing more than an old phone number of Tony’s from before the blip to remember him by. He know’s Tony will never answer, probably changed his number a long time ago, but that doesn’t stop him from calling and leaving a measage or two when he really needs to.Deadpool has no clue who keeps leaving him these messages. They are the only messages on his phone that aren’t work related. While it annoys him at first, he can’t help eventually looking forward to the them as time goes on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of edit and post another chapter for my other fic, I got distracted with this. 
> 
> Enjoy. Or… don’t. It’s up to you. 
> 
> WARNING!!!! MAJOR ENDGAME MOVIE SPOILERS IN THIS CHAPTER!!! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Peter didn’t know who gave him a phone.

Somehow, not an hour after Stark’s sacrifice, he was holding a cell in his hand. He distantly remembered someone telling him to call his parents to come collect him. That was all good in theory, except the person must have never gotten the memo about how Spider-Man was an orphan.

He thought for a moment about how he might not even have his Aunt anymore. Had she been snapped? Did she die since? Was she five years older? Would she have moved on? Was her number the same? What if she didn’t even have access to a phone? How were they supposed to find each other? Did she even want him back?

All those thoughts ran through his head at the same time and then—

Captain America, Thor, and the Hulk walked past somberly, all working together so they could carry what was left of- of Tony Stark.

Tony Stark was…

Mr. Stark was…

Peter felt bile rise in his throat.

No. He couldn’t be dead. Peter just came back! Tony couldn’t be… he couldn’t be…

It was the reality stone. The mind stone. Some sort of a magical illusion. He couldn’t actually be…

He wasn’t!

Peter clenched his eyes shut, clutching the cell to his chest as he wheezed out short, gasping breaths that did little to actually help get oxygen to his brain.

He needed to leave. He needed to run. People were looking at him. He could feel that same pitying look he got at his uncle’s funeral, and the same look adults gave him after learning that his parents were dead. It would have been easier if all they saw was Peter Parker, but of course they saw him in his suit, and unmasked.

The person who had given him the phone was nowhere to be seen. Everyone was running left and right, but here he was, standing still. First responders were showing up. Someone was going to want to see him about his injuries.

Peter took a running leap, crawling his way into the rubble of the building. Someone called after him. He didn’t care. He needed to be alone with this.

Everyone was so loud. Everyone was so…

Peter clenched his teeth, fisting his ear as he curled in on himself, the phone his only lifeline that he clutched tightly to his chest.

His entire body was in so much pain after being kicked around by aliens like a soccer ball, but somehow he was numb to it all. The pain in his chest was way too much, and he wasn’t talking about his several cracked ribs.

Peter knew it was silly. Tony changed numbers more often than he probably changed his clothes due to his celebrity status. Five years had passed since Peter last had the chance to dial it. It probably wasn’t even in service anymore. Despite the fact Peter knew there was at least one more very obvious reason as to why Tony would never pick up the call, Peter found himself pressing send.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Just as Peter felt those tears well up in his eyes and a strong sense of self loathing burn in the pit of his stomach, forcing himself to admit that he screwed up worse than normal, the automated voice of a message box told him to speak after the tone.

Maybe it was because the voice was feminine, thus reminding him the slightest bit of Friday. Maybe it was because he really wanted to believe that Stark would play back that message one day. It helped keep that illusion alive. The illusion that he wasn’t…

He wasn’t…

He swallowed dryly.

More than anything, though? Peter really just wanted to talk to someone. Someone that wasn’t there anymore. Just like he hadn’t been there for five years.

Peter choked back another pained sob, running his hand through his hair as the tone finally beeped.

“I’m sorry.” Peter choked out bluntly. He let himself fall to his hands and knees, curling in on himself more as he finally let out all those words he would never get to say to the man in person ever again. “I am sorry I let you die. I’m so sorry! Even more than that… I am so sorry I let you watch me die.” Peter was sure that, if anyone ever listened to this, none of it would make any sense over the sobbing, hiccups and slobbering. He couldn’t stop it now. It was all tumbling out. The dam had been broken, and nothing would stop Peter from talking until he had no words left to say.

“I begged you to make it stop, that I didn’t want to die after I failed to stop it the first time. I’m so sorry I failed. I should’ve been able to sense that he was going to punch… but I didn’t. Then I made you watch me, listen to me beg, as I faded away. I’m sorry! You always told me that if I died, it would be because of you. You’d blame yourself. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you had to live with that guilt. I am so sorry. I can’t imagine how much I hurt you. I just keep on failing you. No matter what. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I shouldn’t have come when you told me to stay behind. I’m sorry I failed you, and I’m sorry… I’m sorry I failed you now.” Peter’s suit sleeve was so wet with tears that all he was doing was smearing them around on his face as he sobbed, never once wondering who’s phone he was actually leaving a number to.

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered beyond the pain of losing his mentor and idol.

—————————————————————

_ “You shouldn’t’ve died. I should’ve been able to stop that. I should’ve protected you. I should’ve used the glove when I had it. Just to prevent you from doing it. There were so many things I should’ve done. But I didn’t. I guess it’s only fair that… that I have to live without you. I wish more than anything that I could save you from dying like you did for me. Just so you can be with your daughter again. She deserves a dad like you. You know I never knew my dad? I always wished he were just like you. I am so sorry! There’s a reason I can’t keep the people close to me alive. Mom. Dad. My uncle, and now… you. Maybe May too! I don’t know! I’m sorry I screwed things up this bad. I know people say that it’s not my fault, or that you wouldn’t want me to cry for you, or that you would forgive me. They told me that with Ben. But that doesn’t change the fact that you can’t. Never again. So… it really doesn’t matter what they’ll say. Because you’re dead, and I’m still alive, and I am never going to… to know what you would tell me. I don’t know what’s happening anymore! Please, I don’t want you to go… I don’t want you to… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” _

Deadpool pulled his phone away from his ear with a frown, thumb hovering over the button to delete it.

The kid, at least it sure sounded like a kid with the way his voice was cracking left and right, still sobbed on the other end as the message went on. He repeated sorry at least a dozen more times before finally the recording ended, leaving the mercenary with the dull voice of the automated operator asking him if he wanted to save it, or delete it, or call them back.

He, for once, had no clue what to do.

Deadpool knew that he would gain so many new jobs the day people got snapped back into existence. If that actually happened. Which it did.

The Avengers always made the impossible possible.

As he suspected, the moment people started appearing and realizing what happened, how their husbands or wives moved on, who took what position at their company, who currently lived in their house, his phone started ringing off the hook.

He just… never expected a wrong number.

From the way they carried on, he wished, for a brief moment, that this kid was talking about him. Crying about him. Calling for him. To him.

Sure most of it didn’t make a lot of sense. Even more was no better than gibberish with all the tears and snot. But at the base of it all, someone was sad that someone else was dead.

That was life.

Wasn’t that a nice thought, though? Somewhere out there, some stranger had died, and another mourned over their loss.

That didn’t happen much where he was involved. Most people he dealt with didn’t do the mourning.

Wade was sure that, once he finally broke out of this never ending cycle of death and destruction that was his life, nobody would mourn him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want someone to do that. It was just… he never really was someone worth a second thought, even before his makeover with Weapon X.

He wasn’t a good man. Now he was hardly a man.

That didn’t used to bother him. He would have never even thought about it until he listened to that message.

The first message of fifty left on his phone.

Forty Nine other clients on the line, thinking of nothing more than ending a life rather than saving one.

Maybe it was about time that he turned around his life?

New York could surely use some new heroes in the wake of this terrible disaster. So many people displaced. So many lives ruined.

Wade stood in the tableau of his living room, phone loosely gripped in his hand as he considered his life up to this point, what it had become, and what it could be.

Would it really be that simple?

Would it be worth it?

Would he ever be loved the way this kid seemed to love whoever he wished he was talking to?

Or was it too late.

Several years and one too many experiments too late.

Deadpool snorted at the thought, pressing the delete button on his phone before cuing up the next caller.

The kid needed help, but it certainly wasn’t anything he could give.

Not in this universe.


	2. Dealing with Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am sure you have noticed, I went from 5+1 to 25+1. Hope that isn’t too big of a deal.

Peter, for the next several days after the call, was mortified at what he had done. Obviously the phone was still in use if the voicemail was still active! He no doubt left a very pathetic, very depressing message for some stranger to listen to. They would probably call him back and ask him what his problem was any day now.

Fortunately, two days passed and nobody called. Nobody seemed to care. Not like that was any different from normal, but Mr. Stark would have called him back as soon as possible unless he was busy. 

As time drew on, it was pretty easy to convince himself that he actually would call back someday. He would tell Peter it was all one big misunderstanding and they would laugh. 

But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t . 

Finally, a man named T'Challa, who was apparently the same one he had fought with in the airport all those years before, and the same one who had given him the phone in the first place, asked for it back. He even kindly traded it out for a new one. 

Peter had a feeling the man knew that the phone had become a safety object of sorts for Peter in the days following the attack. After all, he rarely let it out of his hand, and never let it out of his sight. 

Peter was even more mortified when he eventually learned that he had stolen a King’s phone. Even more mortified upon remembering that he had called some random number and left a message using that very device. 

The new phone’s contact list looked empty, though. So, he added the number he already promised himself he would never call again. For therapeutic reasons, obviously. 

As he typed his mentor’s old number in, he paused midway through typing the contacts name in as “Mr. Stark.” It use to be an ongoing joke, how he would call the man “Mr. Stark.” The man preferred “Tony” for reasons he would never get into, and it was a bit of a slight to call a man “Mr.” when he had so many doctorates. Still, the teasing nature of their relationship, one where he remembered seeing his name listed as “underoos” once, made it all the more sweet. 

Unfortunately, the man had always wanted Peter to call him Tony. Peter had always promised himself that, one day, when he made it big or finally decided he earned the privilege, he would surprise his mentor by actually calling him Tony. Now, it only seemed fitting to respect a dead man’s wishes and at least save the contact the way he always wanted to be remembered. Even if it wasn’t actually his number anymore. 

As the days passed by, things got harder, but remained uneventful. 

Dr. Strange hunted down and talked to his aunt and agreed to take care of Peter till they could be reunited properly at the funeral. Peter may have had some less than appropriate words to say to the sorcerer about his definition of how to ‘take care’ of him. He tried to talk to Peter, but Peter wanted nothing to do with him. 

Deep inside, he knew it wasn’t Strange’s fault. He witnessed a million possible outcomes, and this was the only one where everyone lived. Everyone but Tony. Still, he had Strange to thank for the fact he was alive again, but the heavy weight of survivor’s guilt made the victory sour. He didn’t want to live through yet another mentor’s death.

The sorcerer apologized despite the fact it wasn’t his fault. Peter knew how hard that must have been for a man with an ego as big as his, but Peter still refused to talk to him. Refused even to look at him till the day of the funeral, where he finally collapsed against the older man’s stunned and tense arms, apologizing and sobbing into his cape, which wrapped around Peter’s shoulders when the man’s arms didn’t. It brushed away Peter’s tears until an awkward, shaking hand found its way to Peter’s hair, carding through the knots, gently guiding him to the home Tony had built five years prior.

He saw so many people once they made their way around back. People he recognized from the fight, and a few others he didn’t. T’Challa wasn’t there yet, but he had assured Peter he would be. Dr. Strange’s soothing hand rubbed against the base of his neck, guiding him to the rest of the crowd at the water’s edge while he composed himself. Strange didn’t betray any emotions on his way there, but he stole a few hesitant glances Peter’s way when they finally reached the dock. 

So many people were there. Peter wondered if half of them were there out of guilt because of how they treated Tony in life. How many people were there in the whole group that were actually considered friends by the man himself? Was he? Tony had always treated him like a child. Did Tony hate him for coming along on the spaceship?

Then, Peter’s eyes landed on the one woman he wasn’t sure he would ever see again despite their clipped phone conversation a day before. May looked exactly the same way she did so long ago. It was almost like he could trick himself into believing nothing ever happened. 

Dr. Strange seemed to be glad to leave Peter’s side as the rest showed up. Portals opened up and he disappeared into the crowd as Peter fell onto his aunt’s shoulder. 

It was all too much. 

It was still not enough. 

When the ceremony finally started, Peter refused to cry anymore. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have the tears. He simply couldn’t. Not when there were so many more people who knew Tony Stark better than he did. People who earned the right to cry. Like his daughter, and his wife, and a blond boy not too much younger than himself that had a haunted look in his eyes suggesting he lived through the snap with Tony. 

When it was all said and done, people began talking to each other. The only people Peter would have known outside of his mask was Doctor Strange, who had disappeared, and the King of Wakanda. May found her way over to Pepper, Happy, and little Morgan. Then, slowly, one by one, people made their way inside. 

Before he went inside himself, his feet carried him behind a tree on the edge of the property, and found himself dialing the number he promised himself he would never call again. 

————————

_ “Hey, Tony- I can call you that, right? I mean, you always use to tell me to call you that. I saved your number into my phone that way. New phone. That’s why I have a new number.” _ The young, scratchy voice on the other end trembled before taking a deep breath and carrying on. _ “I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. We all miss you. Your daughter, she was at the funeral today. She wasn’t crying. She doesn’t understand, and part of me hopes she never will. It hurts so much. She doesn’t deserve that pain.” _

Wade stood there, camping out on a rooftop while he waited for his target to show, listening to the new message. It was the kid again. He mentioned a ‘Tony.’ Fat lot of good that did. There were a million Tony’s, Antony’s, and Antonio’s in the world. Even knowing they died recently didn’t help much. 

Despite whatever was done to try to prevent as many people from dying as possible when the snap was reversed, there was still some collateral. People shot for trespassing, others stumbling in a shocked daze into oncoming traffic, and so much more. On top of that, the kid might have even been someone who came back from the snap only to learn one of his loved ones died during the five years. It was a tragedy, really. Or, it would have been to just about anyone but Deadpool, a man to whom death meant nothing more than a paycheck. 

Still, Deadpool always had a soft spot for children. Even though this kid was probably only a couple years away from being considered an adult, Deadpool couldn’t bring himself to delete the message before playing it through to its entirety. 

_ “I wish you were here. You always tried to protect me. Why did you have to die? Why did it have to be you?” _

The sound of whimpering sobs erupted from the other end just as the target exited the cafe. Deadpool cradled the phone against his shoulder as he raised the rifle and adjusted the angle. 

_ “Please come back. You were invincible. You were my hero. Heroes aren’t supposed to die. I believed in you. I need you. The world needs you. What will it do without you?” _

The irony of that sentence being spoken into his ear wasn’t lost on Deadpool. “What will the world do without you indeed,” Deadpool snarked, finding his target in the scope. 

The message ended in time with the trigger being pulled. 

The people on the street screamed. The robotic voice on the phone asked Wade what he wanted to do with the message. He told the voice exactly what it could do with it. 


	3. Call 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day.

When Peter finally got back to reality and Queens after the funeral, he was way too busy to even think about calling Tony again. He had school, his aunt was trying to find a job to keep them afloat, he was also trying to find a job, and he was fixing his suit and preparing it for his debut as Spider-Man. People suspected Spider-Man died in the snap like so many heroes did. And like so many heroes, he needed to make sure to leave a big impression on the public to regain their attention and their adoration. 

Unfortunately, after the five years, a man had appeared in the news named J. Joanna Jamison, jaded and angry at the world that had been left after the snap had been undone. He printed rants about how Tony did the wrong thing by bringing everyone back to the current time rather than go back. He had lots of opinions about the way things should have been done, but no actual gumption to go out and make a difference. The real reason Peter was rushed into reappearing as Spider-Man was due to supposed sightings of him murdering people with guns and swords in the middle of the day. According to the Bugle, Spider-Man was all grown up and out for revenge. 

Of course, when the real Spider-Man showed up, people were scared at first, but Peter quickly earned their love. He still had no clue where the rumor about him came from. One picture of him walking an old lady across the road was all it took to calm them all down for the most part. Still, he seemed to loath the idea that people believed in and trusted heroes, and Peter had to agree with him to some extent. Heroes weren’t the end all be all. People needed to do their part too. 

Like his aunt. One day, she got home and declared to Peter that, with how bad the job market was with an influx of workers, people needed a place to stay while things settled out. She mentioned talking to Pepper about building a shelter, and she had agreed happily. She asked Peter for his help getting things set up, and his endorsement as Spider-Man. Peter obviously said yes. 

At school, Peter was buried under a heavy workload. He used that to distract him from how much changed around him. He was happy to see most of his friends were still the same age as him. He clung to that fact to get by and tried to ignore everything else for the time being. 

In chemistry, he made a new breakthrough with his webs, increasing elasticity, while also increasing strength. He couldn’t wait to test it out at the end of the day. He couldn’t wait to swing to the tower and show it off to Tony! He always loved Peter’s new inventions and experiments. He always loved talking science to someone smart enough to keep up. 

Then, Flash had to remind Peter. 

“Hey, dumb-shit! What are you running out of here so fast for?” If anyone could have aged up and escaped Peter’s grade, he wished it was Flash. “Hurrying to get to your Stark Internship again? Oh. Wait. How are you supposed to suck your imaginary boss’s dick when he’s dead?”

That reminder slammed into Peter like a ton of bricks. Then, he was running from the school for a whole different reason. 

——————————————————

A month passed between calls. Quite honestly, Wade didn’t even remember the kid calling the first or second time until the third call came in. When he did hear the voice, he was relaxing on a tropical island, enjoying the night life before hunting down the corrupt political figure he was being payed to come out and unalive. He could afford a couple more days of luxury. Calls kept on coming in, and money had never been easier. 

It was kind of a bummer when his phone rang and he checked the message a few minutes later when a voicemail was left, expecting the prospect of yet another easy job, only to hear the young voice again. 

Deadpool was in the middle of a bar, his mask and suit were replaced with a pair of khaki shorts and a gaudy tropical shirt. A woman was actually talking to him, which was rare due to the heavy scarring. It may have been due to the fact she was a hooker, and he may have accidentally flashed the world the contents of his wallet when ordering his ‘sex on the beach.’ 

He smiled at the young woman, excusing himself to the balcony after momentarily considering ignoring the call. It was terrible to listen to them each time. Like reading the mail that was sent to his apartment. Not like that ever stopped him before. Wade was a curious man, and the boy sounded strangely happy in a way he had never heard before. In fact, he sounded excited.

_ “Hey. It’s me again. I just wanted to call you and tell you about this new breakthrough I had on the chemical formula we had been working on! You would be so proud. I just know it. I wanted to bounce some other ideas off of you, too, but I know you are busy. Your wife and my aunt are working together to try to raise a shelter for all of the people displaced during the blip. That’s what they are calling it now. A blip! Kinda funny word to use to describe a tragic event. It’s frustrating because jut saying it makes me smile. I mean, you say it. ‘Blip! Blipity-blip-blip-blip!’” _

While the kid laughed, a sweet sound that brought a hesitant smiled to Deadpool’s unmasked face, he couldn’t help but give it a try. “Blip.” He snorted. It was kind of a funny word. The kid was right. 

_ “Anyway. My aunt is having a hard time finding a job. A lot of people are, because so many people appeared, and the companies don’t know how many people to hire back yet to balance out supply and demand. It will be a slow process, which is too bad, because people are getting desperate to do just about anything to get enough money to feed their family.” _ Wade looked back into the bar, remembering the girl he left there at his stool. He couldn’t help but feel like a monster at the reminder of what she might be going through to be willing to accept his company for the night. No wonder he was getting so much more attention everywhere he went. It had been a major confidence booster up until now. 

_ “I’m lucky we aren’t out on the streets yet, but your wife is helping a lot. She loves the idea of a few shelters, and she is going to pitch it to a few big names to help with funding. Hopefully, by next week we will be raising a new building in Queens, and maybe a few more will be opened all around the world.” _ There was a gentle pause, and Wade could just make out a shaky breath on the other end.  _ “I miss you.” _ The words were like a sucker punch to the gut when he reminded himself that they were for someone else. Nobody ever missed him.  _ “Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. Call me back when you get the chance. Bye.” _

Deadpool held the phone to his face a little while longer. The sad smile slowly fading from his lips. “Blip,” he muttered out again, but it just didn’t have the same effect that it did a few moments ago. 

He walked back into the bar, taking notice of the way the woman sitting there, a very beautiful, young girl that didn’t deserve this life, forced down a wince at his repulsive appearance and smiled at him, patting the barstool. “Hey, handsome! I was afraid you were gonna run out on me with some other girl.” The way her voice shook with nerves made him realize that she wasn’t as experienced at this as he had first thought. Then, a terrible thought reared it’s ugly head at him. Was she here on a vacation five years ago, then brought back, trapped on the island with no passport or money to get home? Did she even have a home to get back to?

Deadpool opened his bulging wallet without a word, pulling out his cards and passport before grabbing the girl’s wrist and smacking the leather folder into her palm. 

She sat there, shocked, before fumbling with it and quickly shoving it into her bra and turning to thank him with tear filled eyes, but by the time that happened, Deadpool was long gone. 

He didn’t deserve her thanks. He was disgusting.


	4. You make me Suicidal~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed a little bit of the formatting and edited a little. Hope you like! And thank you for all of you who commented, Kudosed, and are reading! I have so many amazing ideas to come!

When the next day arrived, Wade was very much not in the mood to entertain. The hit was carried out only a couple hours after he got the message, very gruesomely with as much screaming as possible to make him feel a little better after the bar incident the night before. 

Of course, his boxes were making an already bad day worse. He had already shot himself once in the head, and it was only 3:30 a.m. 

Unfortunately, that wonderful bout of Death was interrupted by a ringtone. He knew who exactly was calling him by now. He had reset the alert to the tune of ‘F**k you.’ It was a very wonderful song to wake up to with a mouth still full of blood and brain matter. 

He stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to click off. A few seconds after that his jaw was healed enough that he could close it, and a voice message alert chimed. 

At least it wasn’t going to be a long one like the last three. 

He sat up, grabbing his phone, and—

{Are you serious? Do you really want to listen to this again? It’s this guy’s fault you didn’t get laid last night!}

Great. The boxes were already back. He was hoping he would have a little while longer. He ignored them, thumbing into his voicemail box and pulling up the newest message. 

“Fuck you~!”

<Singing outdated songs isn’t going to fix the problem, here. Neither is shooting yourself.>

“Fuck you, too~!”

{Lame.}

The message started playing. Cutting off the boxes. The exuberant voice juxtaposed the previous night’s somber mood, making Wade’s pulse jolt and a smile tug at his lips at the enthusiastic,  _ “You won’t believe this!”  _

Wade stood a little straighter, listening to the message with rapt attention as the young voice chittered. 

{I think he likes phone voice more than me!} Yellow whined, to which, White responded with an exasperated, <He’s not the only one.>

_ “Okay, so, I was passing this newsstand today? And, like, there is the cover of this magazine, alright? And, like, remember how I told you about that kid who was in my class? The one whose dad owned the building with the labs where there was that… accident?” _

Wade blinked when the message waited with bated breath for him to respond, which obviously wasn’t going to happen considering it was a message, but Wade couldn’t help himself from biting out a slightly snarky, “Nope! Not a clue!” 

The message rambled on like he hadn’t even said anything. As messages were made to do. 

_ “Harry Osborn! That’s who I saw! Last time I saw his face was in lab last year,” _ the kid rambled.  _ “He was grumpy, and I kept trying to be nice to him. He had a couple of pimples. Really scrawny and self-conscious, not to mention suspicious of anyone who tried to talk to him. You said you were like that too at his age.” _

Wade flinched, because even if this kid thought he was talking about someone else’s childhood, he had gone through a similar phase in high school. 

_ “Well, he must have gotten over it, because his face was on the cover of some fashion magazine! And he is taller, and ripped, and super handsome! And his dad is running for mayor! And it’s just like, if I hadn’t been snapped, that could have been me right now! Not the dad part, though. Obviously. It’s just so unfair!” _ The kid sounded both exuberant and frustrated, not quite able to figure out if he wanted to commit to happy or jealous yet. 

Wade blinked, looking down at the scars on his fingers that he had gained over the last five years. Life definitely wasn’t fair. The kid was way too optimistic or childishly naive to only be able to see the good things that came out of the blip. Though, Wade supposed the grass was always greener in other people’s heads. Surely the boy was still trying to figure things out, like everyone was. Not everyone walked away from the blip looking like a supermodel, and not everyone wore their scars where it was visible like Wade did. 

{Yeah. You sure as hell ain’t no Harry Osborn, let me tell you.}

<Definitely did not age like fine wine. Five years just turned you into—>

{—a pile of dog shit! Literally. You look like poop. You can kiss that nonexistent modeling career goodbye.}

“Yeah, I really needed to hear that,” Wade rolled his eyes, pressing the phone closer to his ear to block them out. 

_ “Anyway, that’s all I really wanted to say,”  _ mystery messenger said.  _ “Osborn for mayor, though, right? You’re probably rolling in your grave.” _

There was a quick hiccup, as if the last sentence reminded him the man he was leaving the message for was actually dead, and it abruptly ended. 

{Are you going to shoot yourself again?}

“I’m not a delicate little flower,” Wade shot back, pocketing his phone, grabbing his mask off of the hotel’s bedside table. “I’ve got places to go. People to murder. I mean, there are only so many times a guy can shoot himself in a 24 hour period before it gets old.” He grabbed the gun off the floor where he left it, holstering it before making a running leap out of the window for dramatic effect. 

<Ah, yes. Because jumping out of a fifth story window is soooo much better.>

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

In Wade’s defense, he totally forgot he had booked a room that high up. 

{Probably because you shot yourself in the head, bumfuck.}  
  



End file.
